Forgotten

Chapter 7

IT'S A DASH TO GET HAYLEY TO THE bus stop on time on the second morning, and I make a mental note to wake up earlier on Hayley's school days. After she manages a few bites of breakfast and rushes out the door with her backpack on her shoulder, I follow her to the street. I stop there and watch from a distance as she hurries to the bus stop, her blonde hair—this time in a simple ponytail—bobbing against her back.

All the other kids are already there, laughing and talking with their friends. I can't help but notice that they throw sidelong glances at Hayley as she approaches, stepping warily away. I feel cold fury rising in my chest as I watch Hayley scoot to the side and sit down on a corner of the nearly empty bench. Hayley had told me that the first day had gone well, and that her teacher liked her. Apparently, the other students don't share Mrs. Sandridge's feelings.

The hoverbus approaches, a blue vehicle with translucent turquoise windows. Instead of rolling on wheels, it hovers about six inches above the ground so that it doesn't hit the bumps and various objects lying around the streets.

It comes to a smooth stop near the kids, and the glass door slides soundlessly open. I love watching it go—it's one of the technological wonders of the eastern regions, a beacon of the future in this desolate place.

Hayley is the last one to board, climbing the steps a good five feet behind the boy in front of her. I don't see what happens next, though, because the doors slide shut and the blue tinted windows block my view of her as the bus glides away.

I walk back into the house and slam the door angrily behind me. Liana looks up from where she's doing some of Hayley's paperwork on the table. "What's wrong?"

"They hate her." I throw my hands up helplessly in the air and sit down beside her at the table. "They all just ignored her, and...they just...well, she isn't going to be able to make any friends if the whole first grade acts like those kids at the bus stop."

Liana looks confused. "What could she possibly have done in one day that would make them despise her?"

"I don't know."

"Mail!" A voice from behind the door makes me jump, and I turn around in my seat to see a white oblong envelope slide through the letter slot in the front door. Through the window, I see the mailboy adjust his shoulder bag and head down towards the next house.

I look at Liana quizzically. "More of Hayley's papers?"

Liana shrugs. "Go check it out."

I get up and pick up the envelope from the floor, ripping it open and unfolding the letter inside. My eyes scan over it quickly and I look up at Liana, panicked. "She lied. Hayley lied to us. Her teacher—" I hand the letter to Liana, unable to say more.

Liana squints at the note, then starts reading it aloud.

"To the caretakers of Hayley Parlett:

"On the morning of the first day of school, Hayley came into my classroom and brought with her a positive attitude and eagerness to learn that is seldom seen in such a young child. I was genuinely impressed by her ability to engage in complicated activities and complete advanced material. She is a very special little girl.

"However, that afternoon I began to notice things about Hayley that were not quite right. She ate alone at lunch, ignoring the other children who tried to approach her, in a corner of the cafeteria. She refused to raise her hand and hardly ever talked in class, except to answer questions that, until now, I thought too difficult for a four-year-old to answer.